Leap of Faith
by MissZoey
Summary: Instead of waking up at King's Cross, Harry finds himself at Hogwarts. Hogwarts, 1977 to be precise. It can only be considered a stroke of irony that he is discovered by someone he bears an uncanny resemblance to. Yet he cannot tell anyone who he is.
1. Chapter 1

**This idea sort of came to me in one of my 'I'm going to try and read the whole Harry Potter series in one go' scenarios, which never actually work out as planned. But here is to hoping this plan will work out right.**

**I do not own, nor have any rights over any of the characters pertaining to the Harry Potter series, nor is any copyright infringement intended. I'm going to use the HP Lexicon to find out the names of students in Hogwarts during this time era, so I won't be making anyone up. I'm also not sure if I should just leave this as it is, or continue, so advice would be greatly appreciate!**

**Reviews shall get bacon, because for whatever reason, I have loads.**

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It was all happening at once. So much in fact that Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the great Boy Who Lived, could not even _comprehend_ what was going on. In the distance there were screams, cackles of laughter and the sound of spells and curses and disarmament charms being thrown back and forth. He didn't even know how he could hear all of this, when he was face to face with the man – no, the _monster_ who had murdered his family in cold blood. But he supposed, absently, that when you were moments from death, everything seemed slower – and considerably a lot clearer. He could suddenly see things better and he thought, funnily enough, that he could _almost_ read their thoughts. That of course was absurd though. How could he read minds? Of all the things… but no. Now was not the time to be thinking of all the things he could do, of all the things he'd had to do in order to get him here. Right now what mattered was how to finish what was started sixteen years ago.

He'd come in to the depths of the forest, right where Voldemort was waiting for him, waiting to _kill_ him without a single hint of remorse. Of course not; why would he? Harry swallowed back bitterness that rose in his throat, and pushed forwards, right until he could look in to the murderer's gleaming red eyes. So full of surprise that Harry had come, so full of pleasure for what he was about to do – what he was about to finally accomplish. _Some accomplishment,_ Harry thought bitterly. _If this is all he sees, death…_ and Voldemort was about to see the death of another later than Harry had expected. He had thought Voldemort would just kill him off, right there and then, but then _why_ do that when he could marvel, and boast about his soon-to-be actions.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" The jet of green light shot with an impenetrable speed, and he was gone.

Harry had, somehow, the strangest feeling of déjà vu.

He was laying face down on the damp ground, the smell of fresh cut grass floating up his nostrils. The wand, Draco's wand, still pressed against his chest, and the soft padding of the Invisibility Cloak rested against his stomach. He realised, after a while, that he _must_ be alive for he was feeling and no doubt thinking things coherently, giving himself another jolt. _He. Was. Alive._

"Hey, there's a kid on the lawn!" A very familiar voice called although it was certainly not for him. He could feel his fingers move, although he aimed to keep as still as possible until he could figure out just where the hell he was – because in all honesty, nobody in Voldemort's inner circle who had just witnessed his murder would have yelled dramatically: 'there's a kid on the lawn!'

"Do you think he's dead?" A slightly less confident voice tremored somewhere beside him. Something poked his side, and Harry bit back the urge to yelp.

"Nah, look I can see he's breathing." The first voice again. "C'mon Wormy, let's get the poor bloke to the hospital wing."

The one thing that bothered Harry, other than the particularly uncomfortable notion of floating in midair, was how familiar that voice was to him. Both of them in fact, but the first was even more so than the other. And Wormy… that name meant something too. Wormtail! Harry's insides churned, but his mind quickly dismissed the thought; that was impossible. Harry had a hard time keeping his body as unconscious-looking as was possible, because all he needed right now was to be alone, and that wasn't going to happen if he was suddenly awake and would no doubt have to start answering questions. _Answering them… but to what questions?_ Harry thought as he heard a door swing open, and a scurry of footsteps. _And where the bloody hell am I?_

Thump!

He was dropped on to something cushion-like, and was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was now facing upwards, and now viewable to his… well; to the people who had brought him here. There were more voices now but Harry did his best to block them all out. He was worried that they might discover the Invisibility Cloak tucked under his jacket, or the wand by his chest, but all he felt was a cover being draped over his body, and his glasses removed and placed on a nearby surface.

"Funny looking scar he's got there," the first boy once again noted, his voice very intrigued.

"Now, you said you did not know this boy?" Madam Pomfrey! Harry felt a rush of relief… but also confusion. She would certainly know who he was, especially if they had seen his scar… crap! His scar was on full view… he didn't know where he was, and if Voldemort found out he was still alive then… his thoughts were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's insistent voice. "You must go, all of you! This boy needs his rest, and I myself shall inform the Headmaster when the boy wakes. Go on!"

Once the footsteps had died down, and those of Pomfrey's had also disappeared in to the distance, Harry dared to open his eyes. Once he was sure he was alone, and no one could see him, he sat up and was about to sling his legs over the side of the bed when he paused and stared at the area about him. "This doesn't look like the Hospital Wing I used to know," he said aloud to himself. It was certainly a lot… well, new wasn't the word he'd use as choice, but it was new_er_.

Harry's mind reeled. He was definitely in Hogwarts; even without the voices he recognised the place instantly just with one look. But… wasn't there a war being fought right about now? Wasn't there a battle happening within the very walls of Hogwarts, and surely one body lying on the grounds of the school wasn't going to be a surprise if there were all ready plenty of them? He decided that, for better measure, he should hurry up and get the hell out of the Hospital Wing, and somewhere that made a lot more sense. Like the entrance… but, as Harry sped along the corridors and came to the opening, it was empty. Not only that – it was shiny, and as if _not one curse had been made_. None of this made any sense. He spun on his heel, desperate for an answer. Faintly he could hear voices; they sounded older, so he immediately threw on his cloak, and backed in to a safe corner where he could watch them come up out of the Dungeons.

"Slughorn?" Harry said, abashed, for indeed it was Professor Horace Slughorn accompanied by Dumbledore.

_Dumbledore's dead though!_ His mind countered immediately. However there was no mistaking the silvery white beard, and the half moon spectacles of the great headmaster of Hogwarts. His mind reeled. Dumbledore alive? The school looking as though the Great Battle had never taken place not five minutes ago? Was this what heaven looked like? He couldn't be dead though, because he was moving, talking and feeling – he had definitely felt the prodding of whosever wand it was back outside the castle… but…

Unknowingly Harry had been following Dumbledore and Slughorn up the stairs. Almost immediately he figured out where they were headed, the two professors, so he didn't exactly have to concentrate. If anyone knew what was going on, Dumbledore surely would… he could just picture the conversation in his mind, and shook his head, almost crashing in to a rogue student. Where were they all, in lessons? Never mind that, he had to follow Dumbledore! What in the world had possessed him to go after Dumbledore first, than to figure out what the hell was going on, Harry didn't know. If there's one thing he did know, it was that he had to get back. The only way he could see that happening right now was by speaking to Dumbledore. He didn't, however, count on overhearing a conversation that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"_Yes, that's what I heard-_"

"_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is on the move… wonder where he's going this time._"

Harry Potter, the boy who had just been 'killed' by the Killing Curse, was now in no fit state to be following anyone. He moved swiftly along the corridor, hunching over under the Invisibility Cloak, before he came across an empty classroom. Once inside, he removed the Cloak, stuffed it in his pocket, and fell to the ground back still against the wall. He needed time to think, he needed to figure out what was going on. Why was he one moment right in front of Voldemort, and the next in a place that was most definitely Hogwarts with a walking, talking and very much alive Dumbledore, and where Voldemort was only just 'on the move'?

"This doesn't make sense!" He said, frustrated, and shoved one hand violently to the floor, regretting the action instantly. Whilst he ignored the heavy throbbing, his ears picked up that of another conversation. This time however the voices were getting closer and closer, and the door to the classroom he was in swung open. Forgetting completely about his hand Harry ripped out the Cloak and threw it over himself, glad that he had sat out of view of the immediate entrance.

But the girl who had slung the door so violently open forced Harry to look at her again. Several moments passed, but the words she was saying didn't make sense. _She_ was familiar. He knew _her_ face. And then he allowed himself to listen to the words she was speaking.

"James Potter, you are without a doubt the most annoying no-good arrogant toe rag on this planet!" Exclaimed the red-haired girl. Her features were creased, stressed and annoyed as she paced between two desks.

_His mother._

And then, as if he had willed it to be so, a boy stepped in to clear view. "Miss Evans, what horrible things you say." Even with the words, Harry could see the corner of his lips turn upwards.

_His father._

The both of them, in the same room. _The both of them alive._


	2. Chapter 2

******I apologise profusely for any mistakes I may make. I make no excuses, other than being a mother to four-month-old twins, and so have many things on my mind! Still, I cannot escape the want, or indeed the need, to write. Huge thanks must be given to Vampire Reader and** 4everurz13.

******I do not own, nor have any rights over any of the characters pertaining to the Harry Potter series, nor is any copyright infringement intended. I'm going to use the HP Lexicon to find out the names of students in Hogwarts during this time era, so I won't be making anyone up. I'm also not sure if I should just leave this as it is, or continue, so advice would be greatly appreciate!**

**Reviews will be taken on a romantic stroll.**

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It was quite difficult for Harry to not just throw off the Invisibility Cloak and approach his parents. That they were there was one thing, because he'd seen them before, a sort of ghostly reflection in the Mirror, and again when Cedric had been killed, and even just moments ago (or so it felt like to him)-but to have them talking and arguing, and unaware of Harry's presence or even existence, seemed like a miracle in itself. Too much of a miracle. Harry squeezed his eyes shut (as it was definitely apparent to him that he was not dreaming) and counted to ten. Not any more confident than he had been, Harry opened his eyes-and they were still there.

"Okay," he whispered to himself as his mother stormed out the room and his father, just short of typical, followed. "I'm going mad." There was something in his mind preventing any logic from seeping through. So much so that he was now pacing the width of the classroom with hardly any hesitation in making noise, wishing that either Hermione was here with him to explain, or that the answer would just occur to him. When neither happened, Harry resolved to follow through with his original plan-find Dumbledore.

This plan was promptly overrun by a new objective-avoid the throng of students and the heaving narrow corridors. Harry had broken out in to the staircases before he realised, with concealed heavy breathing, that he should have found a shortcut. Marauder's Map or not, he should have found a way. There were so many people here and he was sticking out worse than a sore thumb, not just because of his ragged appearance but his lack of Hogwarts robes. Many cast glances though Harry easily ignored them, and eventually conceded to pushing his way past people just so he could find his way a lot faster. He knew he looked an awful lot like his father, and that was, currently, his biggest problem. Hermione's voice echoed furiously, a sort of long-lost memory that could not have been anymore relevant – do not be seen.

With each step Harry nervously flatted down his untameable hair. As the corridors grew fiercer, Harry grew ever more impatient. His heart thumped loudly in his ears and the ever present thought of Voldemort overtaking the future Hogwarts weighed heavy in his mind. So much so that, upon rounding a corner to the corridor he knew led to Dumbledore's office, he crashed headlong in to another student.

"Sorry." He muttered as a fast word of apology. With his eyes set ahead, he didn't cast a long enough glance at the girl to recognise her at first sight.

The girl on the other hand was having none of his dismissive approach, and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her. "What did you say?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry, but I really need to see Professor Dumbledore…"

"Right. Just make sure you don't crash in to any more people! If you do, at least have half the decency to apologise properly." Following her proud statement at the end, the girl strode off. Harry stood still for several moments. Who ever it was had a fiery temper and reminded him immediately of Hermione. If it hadn't been to his assured knowledge that both her parents were Muggles and neither had any previous magical association, he would have thought the two related. Never the less… Harry moved on swiftly, avoiding eye contact with the paintings on the way.

It suddenly occurred to him, as he stepped foot by the gargoyle, that he didn't know the password. Attempting to guess would be fruitless. Dumbledore had always been full of surprises – not only this, but he was mad. Harry had no shame in admitting this, but it did make it incredibly difficult to make any sort of assumption so far as this man was concerned.

He had no choice but to find a teacher who would be able to tell him. Harry slumped back against the stone wall as he thought, desperately, of any names he knew would be a Professor in this time. For the briefest of moments Slughorn came in to view before his closed eyes but they were replaced quickly by that of McGonagall, the only high authority in Hogwarts besides Dumbledore himself. The thought of explaining to her what was going on seemed almost comical, and he could imagine her stern fixed expression looking down upon him with sceptical eyes. But, as his mind retaliated, _there is no other option_. Sooner or later he would be found – he had wondered out of the Infirmary, which was not his wisest moment.

Conceding to defeat, The Boy Who Lived began a quick-pace down the opposite corridor. The hallways were emptying, students filling rooms just as quickly and suddenly as they had appeared. It gave Harry a moment of clarity, for he was able to think clearly without worrying about offending anyone else. Still, no-one ever praised Harry for being careful.

He heard the familiar incantations being cast long before he stepped foot near the Transfiguration classroom. Harry groaned, locking his teeth together, unwilling to command the attention of an entire classroom of students. It occurred to him, as it had moments ago, that he was not by nature a careful person. Hermione always approached situations with a logical eye, whereas Harry (and most certainly Ron) would never assume to look at things right in front of them.

This would have been an excellent time to begin, had it not been for the young, blonde girl who paused beside him.

Again, carelessness.

"Oh. Its _you_ again." It was the same girl whom he had crashed in to earlier, and she was facing the doorway Harry was blocking. He was immediately grateful that the door was closed although didn't doubt that McGonagall couldn't hear them. "Couldn't get to Dumbledore?"

"I realised I would need a password." He replied, hoping that his answer would be enough to feed her curiousity. It did not appear to him that her curiousity was nosiness, merely a passable irritance. He had caused her irritation, so he supposed it was only understandable that she would be after confirmation that the inconvenience was worthwhile.

"Would you like me to get McGonagall for you?"

Harry's eyes widened; he was filled instantly with immense gratitude. "Would you?"

"It's not that big a deal," she huffed indignantly, and made a move to push past Harry. There was no need-Harry jumped aside, half out of worry for physical contact with anyone here, and half because he was so nervous. This was yet another test of his patience. He recalled other encounters with McGonagall and could not, for the life of him, decide on a tactful way of approaching what he needed.

"Miss Vance says that you wish to see Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall's step didn't falter until the moment she laid eyes upon him, and out of habit and alarm Harry flattened his hair over the incriminating scar on his forehead. "Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head, adopting the same sense of panic he had acquired on the Night Bus. "No… that's not me."

She pursed her lips and stood, straightening herself up, full of an intimidating authority. "Why do you wish to see the Headmaster?"

"It's… its private." He realised how utterly ridiculous he sounded and how completely stupid the sentence had been.

McGonagall didn't look convinced. Lips still pressed in a thin line, she stared down at Harry for a few more passing moments, until such a time she let out a sigh. "Very well. I will take you there now. Be aware," She looked him over quickly, "that it is not the weekend, and uniform is obligatory." It was not until they reached the gargoyle did she ask for his name.

"Neville," he answered hastily. Inwardly he grimaced, this now being the second time he had used his friend's name as an alias to evade trouble. McGonagall didn't reply, her look of scepticism ever growing. She was a clever woman, and no doubt saw right through him. If she did not, then the man he was about to see most certainly would.

"Sherbet Lemons!" The gargoyle sprung to life, and Harry stepped towards it, wondering why he hadn't guessed the password beforehand. It was, after all, a sweet he knew as being one of the Headmaster's favourites.

McGonagall disappeared inside for several moments before resurfacing, motioned Harry inside, and vanished again.

Dumbledore's office hadn't changed. This observation Harry made upon first glance instantly turned to a comparison of the two-the one he was all too familiar with, and the one he was standing in now.

"Neville, is it?" Dumbledore descended the stairs of his office and settled in to his chair fairly quickly, casting him an amused glance over his half-moon spectacles. "It would be my first guess to assume that that is not your name. Secondly, you are not a student here. Is that correct?"

Harry nodded. He took the chair opposite Dumbledore but found himself even more uncomfortable than he had been standing. Unlike McGonagall, he had difficulty keeping the Headmaster's gaze. "Sir, I don't expect you to believe me…"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore interrupted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I find most things fairly easy to accept, given the existence of magic in our world. But, I offer my sincerest apology in interrupting you whilst you were explaining-please, proceed."

Now came the hardest part-actually giving the explanation. In this head he'd been through a million different contexts and none had come remotely close to being believable.

Harry took a deep breath.

"My name is Harry Potter... not Neville." There. The words were out. Yet it did not even seem like the hardest part.

Dumbledore's eyes widened and he leant forward in curiosity, though made no move to interrupt further.

"Hours ago I was walking in the Forbidden Forest. I was attacked… by a spell, and instead of waking up there, or even still being conscious after, I woke in the lawns just outside the castle. I knew I could not be where I was as soon as I found myself in the Hospital Wing. Professor," Harry now shifted himself, the worst he assumed over, "is that possible?"

The Headmaster didn't waste any time in speaking, although the few moments he did allow for silence was possibly the best choice. It gave Harry room to calm down and Dumbledore the time to execute an answer.

"This is certainly an interesting account of events," he sat back thoughtfully, gazing off at a place behind Harry. "It would seem that, since you are here Harry, this is entirely possible. However I would not rule out the possibility of dark magic. You did not have a Time Turner on your possession when you were attacked, I trust?"

"No I didn't."

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "I presume you're James Potter's son as you bear the same surname."

"Yes…" Harry answered, picturing both his parents in the empty classroom.

"I thought as much. I had to ask, however-Potter is not an unusual name in the slightest. It would not be advisable for you to have any direct contact with your father and your mother if she attends here…" He looked over Harry, who assuming Dumbledore wanted an answer, nodded.

"She does. But I've all ready… well, I was pretending to be unconscious at the time. Him and another boy, Peter, took me to the Hospital Wing earlier." It had to have been his father; the voice he realised now was uncanny. He had even heard it moments before Voldemort cast the spell.

"Good… and any close contact with other students?"

Harry had, in this space of time, realised many things. One of these many realizations had been burdened with that of another piece of information-that he did know of the girl he'd head-longed in to, and knew very well what happened to her. He felt guilty, but there was no way possible she would ever know him in the future just from meeting him now. "Emmeline Vance, I think. And… you and Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore appeared deep in thought. His blank slate stare was quickly replaced by one of seriousness. "I'll inform Professor McGonagall of what has happened. Perhaps it is best that you remain here until we decide what is best to do, and how to get you back." He rose from his chair and Harry did the same. "I also think it would be a sensible idea to alter your appearance, at least until we find a safe place for you to reside."

Harry had expected as much. He did however have one last question to ask before Dumbledore left. "Professor… Sir; do you think its possible I can get back?"

Dumbledore looked at him from over his spectacles again, and Harry found his expression unreadable. "I would assume that if it is possible you ended up here, then the possibility for you getting back is also entirely plausible." Another pause. "I will fetch Professor McGonagall, as it seems we have much more to discuss."

That was all he had to hope for. As Dumbledore left Harry sunk back in to the chair and watched as the beautiful red phoenix burst in to flames.


End file.
